Chapter 1: The Call to Battle
The early morning sun hung low over the jagged, war-torn ridges that cradled Warsong Gulch. On one side of the gulch, the towering, ancient trees of Ashenvale whispered in the wind, their branches swaying with a mournful, restless energy. On the other side, the red dust of the Barrens lay dry and cracked, as if the earth itself had recoiled from the Horde’s relentless expansion. This was a land of eternal conflict, where nature clashed against destruction, and the Horde met the Alliance in endless battle.
For Wy, a stout and deadly hunter of the dwarven people, this was just another day on the battlefield. She had lost count of the skirmishes she’d fought in Warsong Gulch, each one more brutal than the last, but the feeling of tension that came before a fight never seemed to fade. She knelt at the edge of the Alliance encampment, her sharp eyes scanning the thick foliage that stood between their base and the Horde’s. Somewhere out there, enemies lurked—Orcs, Tauren, Trolls, and Forsaken—all sworn to defend their banner.
Wy’s fingers brushed the fletching of her arrows. Each one was crafted with meticulous care, designed to pierce armor and flesh alike. At her side, a sleek, black wolf stood at attention, its sharp ears twitching in sync with the sounds of the forest. The bond between them was unspoken but deeply rooted; they had hunted together for years, and Wy trusted her companion more than she trusted any blade.
“You feel it too, don’t ya, lad?” Wy whispered to the wolf. Its amber eyes flickered toward her before returning to the distant treeline.
The forest was quiet, too quiet.
Behind her, a low chuckle broke the silence.
“Yer paranoid, Wy,” came a familiar, gruff voice. “The Horde ain’t gonna sneak up on us that easy.”
Wy turned to face Thieme, her long-time friend and fellow dwarf, a rogue whose name was whispered with fear on both sides of the battlefield. He leaned casually against a tree, his twin daggers sheathed at his hips, one foot crossed over the other. His black beard was neatly braided, but his piercing eyes betrayed the war-hardened instincts that constantly scanned the surroundings. He might have seemed at ease, but Wy knew Thieme never truly let his guard down.
“Ye can’t ever be too careful, Thieme,” Wy replied, a faint smile curling her lips. “Ye know how quick the Horde can be. One moment, it’s all peace and quiet, and the next—”
Before she could finish, a blood-curdling roar echoed from the direction of the Horde base. The ground beneath their feet trembled with the pounding of hooves, and the distant trees shuddered as something massive charged through the underbrush.
The Horde was on the move.
Wy stood quickly, bow in hand, eyes narrowing as she caught sight of the enemy force moving toward the center of the Gulch. At the front of the charge, a massive figure in the shape of a great bear crashed through the forest, its fur matted with blood and dust. Even in her shifted form, there was no mistaking the Tauren druid: Salove.
“They’re comin’, and they brought their best,” Wy muttered.
“About bloody time!” Thieme grinned, his hands already gripping the hilts of his daggers as he disappeared into the shadows. “Let’s give ‘em a proper welcome!”